


When Things Become Too Much

by selenachevalier



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Play, Fluff, M/M, Nonsexual Ageplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:43:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenachevalier/pseuds/selenachevalier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even things become too much for Sherlock Holmes and when he doesn't have his drugs or his cases to turn to, he turns to something else. John discovers Sherlock's secret, so how does he react? No explicit sex, just a glimpse into ageplay. </p><p>“I’m different, John.” Even when Sherlock's looking away, John could see the uncertainty that seemed so foreign to the consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes is the man with all the answers yet at this very moment, that uncertainty came so naturally to Sherlock. “I’m different.” Sherlock repeats, still looking away from John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Things Become Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whispered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered/gifts).



> Dedicated to someone who showed me this very special world.

Even things become too much for Sherlock Holmes.

John puts down the newspaper he’d been reading. He glances at the headline which reads ‘String of Murders Solved.’ A picture of an amused Lestrade could be seen at the cover, shaking the hand of a rather disgruntled Sherlock Holmes. John’s eyes flicker to Sherlock who was sitting over at the kitchen counter, pouring over old case files.

“Tea, Sherlock?” John asks as he pours himself another cuppa. Sherlock simply gives John an annoyed grunt as he continues looking through the files. John isn't surprised by this response. John counts silently to himself. It’s been a month since their last case. Sherlock has dark circles under his eyes, John notices. His gaze travels to Sherlock’s arm, peeking through the sleeve of his shirt were three nicotine patches. 

“Sherlock.” John starts, "You're-"

“Bored!” Sherlock exclaims, shoving the files off the table and placing his head in his hands.

"How you people sit around with nothing to stimulate your minds, boggles me!" Sherlock quickly stands, pacing back and forth in front of John.

"Well, not everyone has a mind quite like yours Sherlock." John says, his mouth forming a thin line. 

"Indeed." Sherlock responds dryly, his brow furrowed in frustration. 

Sherlock glances upon the newspaper and swipes it from John's grasp. 

"Peaceful, calm, London. Don't you just hate it?" Sherlock proclaims, with no hint of irony in his voice. These times in between cases never came easy for Sherlock Holmes. It is during times like this, that he needed a variety of activities to occupy his ever racing mind. 

The beauty of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson's co dependence is their knowledge of each other's inner workings. Though not completely privy to each other's thoughts, sometimes they knew just enough, Sherlock turns abruptly and heads towards his bedroom. Realizing what the younger man was about to do, John follows him, “Sherlock!” John calls, struggling to catch up with the consulting detective’s quick pace. Sherlock enters his bedroom and opens a drawer containing a needle. John grabs the needle in Sherlock's hand. 

"Sherlock. You've been clean for months. Don't start now."

"John." Sherlock counters, through gritted teeth. 

"No, Sherlock!" 

"Mind your own business John! I don't need y-" Sherlock pauses. Words just beyond the fringes of what is said lingers in the air. For a moment both of them just stand there, gray eyes against blue, locked in a wordless conversation. John is the first to break contact, turning away purposively. It takes Sherlock a second or two to process what had happened and another second to follow John as he made his way towards the door.

"John. Where are you going?" Sherlock doesn't even protest as John throws the needle in the garbage. 

“Out.” John answers, not even looking back at Sherlock as he closes the door. The empty echoes of the closing door are the only company Sherlock has as he stands there, staring where John had been moments before.

*

It is past midnight when John returns to the flat. Moonlight flitters through the gossamer curtains and casts shadows across the living room. A glistening catches John's eye. Surprised, he realizes the needle is still there. 

"Sherlock?" John calls. There was no response. John trudges on in the dimly lit flat. John grabs his phone, checking if Sherlock had left him a message. There was none. 

"Sherlock" John calls again, moving through the corridor in a slow steady pace. This time he hears quiet whimpers. The noise, John realizes, is coming from Sherlock’s room. John approaches the door and places a hand on the handle, turning it slowly. The door swings open and John is at a loss for words at the sight that greets him. 

Sherlock is lying on his bed, clutching what looks like a rather worn baby blanket. He is dressed in nothing but a diaper. John is used to Sherlock’s eccentricities but something stirs in John’s heart that tells him this isn’t just one of Sherlock’s experiments. This is different. 

“Sherlock?” John’s voice is quiet and laced with uncertainty. 

Sherlock looks up, eyes wide with shock at seeing John there. He mouths the word John, silent but resolute. John sees the moment of realization hit Sherlock before the consulting detective backs up into the headboard and buries his head in the blanket he was clutching. 

“Sherlock.” John’s mind hasn’t quite caught up with the rest of his senses so he goes by feeling instead. Something inside John tells him to wrap his arms around Sherlock and hold him close, and so he gives in to this instinct, wrapping tender arms around Sherlock's slender frame. Sherlock trembles a bit as John places a gentle hand on him, but he doesn’t push John away. 

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were an odd pair. Yes, when the consulting detective is around, the army doctor and occasional blogger won’t be far behind. Yet there is more to their relationship than what meets the eye of mere observers. They do not see the layers that run deep. John knows there are layers upon layers which he has never seen. And it seems, tonight he’s able to unravel the mystery of Sherlock Holmes just a bit more. 

Sherlock grabs unto John's jumper. John knows this is different from the other times, wherein Sherlock did it subtly or with a sense of detachment he wasn't displaying now. Sherlock looks right at him, gray eyes wide and unbelieving. How often John had looked into these same eyes, and felt something beyond the depths just out of his reach. Now the veil has been lifted and John sees what he could previously not. A vulnerable and defenseless Sherlock Holmes.

“Sherlock.” John tries again, automatically placing a hand on Sherlock’s head and carding his fingers through Sherlock’s curly black locks. The trembling that wracks Sherlock’s body cease as he slowly leans into John. John grabs the blanket, and wraps it carefully around Sherlock making sure he did it in slow and calm movements. 

John didn’t know how long they stayed there, how long he held Sherlock in his arms, calling Sherlock’s name every so often. Sherlock stirs each time, gripping John’s jumper tighter or sighing deeply in response. 

“John.” The first word Sherlock utters. 

“I’m here, Sherlock.” John replies softly. 

Sherlock looks into John’s eyes, and in the midst of the vulnerability and defenseless was the consulting detective John had come to know and to an extent, love. No, they weren’t at that stage where they openly said such things to each other. But they were there, that line just beyond friendship where it could only be classified as special. 

Sherlock looks away, focusing on the clump of John’s jumper he’d been holding unto. “I’m different, John.” Even when Sherlock's looking away, John could see the uncertainty that seemed so foreign to the consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes is the man with all the answers yet at this very moment, that uncertainty came so naturally to Sherlock. “I’m different.” Sherlock repeats, still looking away from John. 

John doesn’t push and simply waits for Sherlock to continue. Sherlock finds comfort in holding unto John’s jumper. Sherlock takes a deep breath and looks into John’s eyes once again. 

“I’d understand if you’d want to move out.” Sherlock says quietly. There in Sherlock’s eyes John could see the fear, a fear of him saying yes he’d want to move out. John smiles a sad smile and cups Sherlock’s face with his hands. There was still so much to Sherlock Holmes he didn’t know but with each layer he unravels he finds he falls even deeper for the man. 

“I’m still your doctor Sherlock. Always will be.” 

“Even if I’m like this?” 

“You're still you.” John says simply. 

Sherlock blinks in response and buries his head in John’s chest. Tears fall but he doesn’t let John see them and John pretends not to notice. There would be more time to talk about this, Sherlock thinks. There would be more time to talk about his love of cartoons and blocks, his desire to play pretend and to stay in his nappy all day, his inclinations to suck on pacifiers and sippy cups. Sherlock fondly thinks of the day he doesn’t have to hide anything from John and the day he could perhaps call John, Daddy. For now, Sherlock tempers his racing mind and savors the moment of him wrapped in John’s protective embrace. 

There will be more time, Sherlock thinks. They have a lifetime.


End file.
